"From roundabout the middle of the book. Sophie is the maid in the Institute — she's not a Shadowhunter."--The bathtub was an oval, claw-footed affair hidden behind a Japanese screen in a corner of the room. Sophie had filled it with hot water that was already beginning to cool; sliding behind the screen, Tessa undressed and lowered herself into the bath. The hot water came up to her shoulders, warming her chilled bones: for a moment she sat with her eyes closed, letting the heat relax her. It was then that she remembered the rest of what had happened last night — the attic, and Will.

She ducked under the surface of the water as if she could hide from the humiliating memory. It didn’t work. Drowning yourself won’t help, she told herself sternly. Now, drowning Will, on the other hand . . . She sat up and reached for the cake of lavender soap on the edge of the bath and scrubbed her skin and hair with it until the water turned black with ash and dirt. Perhaps it wasn’t actually possible to scrub away your thoughts of someone, but it seemed like a start. Sophie was waiting for Tessa when she emerged from behind the screen, a tray of toast and tea at the ready. She helped Tessa dress for the day in a yellow gown trimmed with dark braid; it was fussier than Tessa would have preferred, but Jessamine had liked it very much in the shop and insisted that she buy it: “I can’t wear yellow, but it’s ever so suitable for girls with dull brown hair like yours.”

The feeling of the brush going through her hair was very pleasant; it reminded Tessa of when she had been a small girl, and Aunt Adelaide had brushed her hair for her. It was soothing enough that when Sophie spoke next, it jolted her slightly:“Did you manage to get Will to take his medicine last night, Miss Tessa?” “Oh, I — “ Tessa scrambled to collect herself, but it was too late; scarlet color had flooded up her neck into her face. “He didn’t want to,” she finished lamely. “But I convinced him in the end.”“I see.” Sophie’s expression didn’t change, but the rhythmic strokes of the brush through Tessa’s hair began to come faster. “Miss Tessa, I know it’s not my place, but —”“Sophie, you can say anything you want to me. I mean it.”

“It’s just — Master Will.” Sophie’s words came out in a rush. “He isn’t someone you should care for, Miss Tessa. Not like that. He isn’t to be trusted, or relied on. He — he isn’t what you think he is.”Tessa clasped her hands in her lap. She felt a vague sense of unreality — had things really gotten so far that she needed to be warned off Will? And yet it was good to have someone to talk to about him. She felt a bit like a starving person being offered food.“I don’t know what I think he is, Sophie. He’s like one thing sometimes, and then he can change completely, like the wind changing, and I don’t know why, or what’s happened —”“Nothing. Nothing’s happened. He just doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”“He cares about Jem,” Tessa said quietly.The brush still; Sophie had paused, frozen. There was something she wanted to say, Tessa thought, something she was holding herself back from saying. But what was it?